Saved the World, Now What?
by BevellaClearlyNotKnown
Summary: Takes place in an 'EWE' world. Hermione has settled into her career as an Auror well, but is still haunted by memories from during the war. When her boss, the minister, Kingsley Shackbolt sets her up to give an interview, as the third and final member of the Golden Trio, she is skeptical, not wishing to dredge up old pains. T plus for descriptions. Short 3-4 shot.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: The scarcity of stories for this pairing caused me to realize i needed to contribute! I hope i did them justice._

* * *

Hermione brushed her curly brown hair absentmindedly, watching the sun as it rose, spreading pinks and oranges over the horizon. Since the last battle, and after all that camping she and the rest of the 'Golden Trio' had done, she was unable to sleep through the sunrise. All those days on the run. All those days spent hiding. She never really stopped looking over her shoulder.

Nowadays she spent her time working among the same men and women she had admired all throughout the war. Hermione Granger, Auror. It felt good to say, and sounded strong.  
Harry and Ron had both wanted to join her, but only Harry had qualified, and so Ron followed his little sister, and love of Harry's life, Ginny Weasley, into the world of professional Quidditch.

Their red and gold uniforms tended to clash with their fierce orange hair, but Hermione couldn't deny they made a wonderful addition to the Hollyhead Harpies.  
As she made her way done to her kitchen, a wave of her wand turning on the coffee machine, she let out a sigh. Her boss, Kingsley Shackbolt had informed her in no uncertain terms, she would be interviewed today. He hadn't said which paper wanted to bug her and distract her from her work, but she had a bad feeling about the Daily Prophet. Ever since the days of Harry being "Enemy Number 1" on the front page for months, she didn't tend to enjoy reading through the paper. She preferred to use her 'muggle' tech of a laptop and read her news that way. Promptly her coffee pot hummed, indicating the caffeinated ambrosia was ready.

She knew Harry and Ron didn't understand the fascination, but she knew she had inherited the love of coffee from her father, who never went a day without a big mug of black coffee. He used to joke it was strong enough to dissolve any spoon, that's why he couldn't add sugar. She knew better. As dentists, her parents both did their best to avoid any extraneous sugar.  
Her ambrosia finally downed, she quickly returned to her bedroom, pulling out a fresh set of work robes, first slipping on a plain black skirt and deep red blouse underneath. Her plain black Mary Janes peeked out from under her black robes, the shine of the freshly polished leather winking in the sunlight as she walked out of her cottage to her little light blue automobile. She lived about 30 miles outside London, and thus the Underground and the Ministry. She had made a few adjustments, as Mister Weasley had to his muggle Ford Angelia, back during the Golden Trio's second year. It drove quickly and could turn invisible with a tap if her wand, but she hadn't given it flight. The invisibility was merely a strong Disillusionment charm, and it helped her if she needed to speed...not that she actively tried to break the law.

* * *

Arriving at her office inside the Ministry, she barely had time to set her bag down before Kingsley strode up to her, seemingly out of thin air.  
"Go up to conference room 57, they're waiting for you." His deep voice held no hint as to the identity of the paper. She sighed deeply, and hoisted up her bag again,  
"If they annoy me at any time with any prying questions, I will make sure you know about it. Also, I will not be helping you with any Rune translation that you need. For a month."  
Her vast knowledge of Runes had been very helpful in their last case, and she knew without her help, Kingsley would be forced to actually do his own research. It was just like being back at Hogwarts, having to refuse to help Harry and Ron with their homework.  
His deep chuckle startled her from her haughty stance, and he couldn't resist nudging her shoulder,  
"You'd better get a move on Auror Granger, if you're late they won't be pleased."  
She smiled reluctantly at him, unable to pretend to be mad for very long.

* * *

Xenophilius Lovegood carefully stepped back, observing his setup for the upcoming interview. He had been surprised and delighted when Luna gave him the idea of talking to Hermione, rather, interviewing her, for a follow-up on how things were settling in the Ministry, and in her life. Luna kept in touch with all three of the Trio, more with Harry than the others, as they had always been close. Her father had interviewed Harry and Ginny a week previous, and had been overjoyed to see the love between them flourishing, and they were soon to become a true family, Ginny had been unable to hide her glow. Xenophilius had guessed that she had been drinking fresh nettle tea, as there was a large nettle plant growing nearby Harry's childhood house.  
She had blushed and nodded, confirming his guess. Nettle tea helped the newborns while in the womb, improved blood flow, and encouraged healthy brain growth.  
She had told him they were planning to keep the identity of the baby's sex a mystery, just for fun. Harry had smiled at her, but whispered to Xenophilius,  
"I'm hoping for a girl."  
He had given them his best wishes, and assured them he would keep it secret until they were ready to tell their friends.

Meanwhile, Xenophilius pulled out a fresh quill, scribbled the date and interviewees name and occupation at the top of the long scroll he had set out on the table, and he glanced at the clock on the wall, in ten seconds, Miss Granger, no, Auror Granger, he reminded himself, would be late.

* * *

Hermione raced down the hall, barely catching the lift and swiftly punched the correct floor buttons. She looked at her watch, slightly panicked, she had only 40 seconds to make it to the conference room or she would run the risk of irritating her interviewer. That wasn't the best way to start off on a good foot.  
She skidded to a stop outside the room, taking a moment to straighten her robes, and patted her hair down hastily. She threw open the door, hoping to present an impressive image, but stopped short at the sight of a man with long flaxen hair, wild bright yellow robes, and a very long scroll of parchment spread on the large table in front of her.  
"Mister Lovegood!" She exclaimed, and he lifted his head, smiling dreamily at her.  
He stood and gave her a small bow,  
"Auror Granger. Very pleasing to see you again. How are you doing today? Not been troubled by any blubbering humdingers?"  
She stifled a giggle.  
"Not that I know of. I had no idea the Quibbler was the paper interviewing me, Kingsley kept quiet, letting me assume I would be talking to the Prophet. Frankly I'm glad it's you, er, your paper."  
He nodded to her,  
"Thank you. Now, I don't know if you read the last issue, but I already spoke to Mister Potter and Missus Potter, nee Weasley, so you were the next logical member to speak with. Mostly it will be like a conversation, any question that fuzzes your vision you don't need to worry about answering."  
Hermione sat, still puzzling over what Xenophilius had said, but she smiled, eager to begin.  
He cleared his throat, shook out his quill hand, and began to write.  
"Auror Granger,-"  
"Hermione, please Mister Lovegood."  
"Of course, Hermione. How have you been enjoying your career choice? Was it in your mind when you were finishing school?"  
Hermione smiled,  
"Honestly, I had originally wanted to be in Muggle studies, perhaps a teacher or simply a Healer, in the world. But after my seventh year, or lack of, I changed my mind. I think we all rearranged our priorities after the War."  
Xenophilius nodded thoughtfully, writing quickly,  
"Tell me, when you knew it was over, how did you feel?"  
Hermione shifted in her seat, not sure if the question made her vision fuzzy, but it did make her heart ache.  
"Well, mostly relief. But I was realistic. I had hardly suffered losses. Many of my friends had lost their families, or part of them. I knew my family was safe. Not many had that assurance. It hurt, seeing all the lives lost in the name of thoughtless evil. Voldemort thought he was purifying wizardkind, but he was really just killing anyone who couldn't bear to see innocents suffer. After all, if the Malfoys hadn't left when they did, or if they had showed their true colors, they would have been killed on the spot, no matter how pure their blood. I mean, I don't know if Harry told you, but Narcissa saved Harry, saved him from being discovered before the right moment." She hugged her arms to her chest, and her eyes fell shut, doing her best to hold in the tears.

* * *

Xenophilius frowned at himself. He lifted his hand from the parchment.  
"Forgive me, I did not mean to stir up pain." He stood, pulling a gold edged handkerchief from his pocket, striding over to where she sat, curled around herself, and he held it out to her.  
"It holds no magic, but does absorb sadness." He said quietly, and she looked up at him, smiling sadly, her brown eyes sparkling with tears,  
"I'm sorry, I thought I was beyond ready to talk about it. It's just, it still feels like just yesterday. I mean, Remus and Tonks had just had their son, and he barely got to know them..." She broke off, unable to finish.  
She reached up taking the handkerchief from him, sniffing a bit.  
When her hand brushed his, he was surprised to feel a spark like being bitten by a gnome; he felt a rush of warmth spread through him.  
"Keep it as long as you need."  
Hermione nodded silently, and wiped her tears away with it, slightly dazed, but happy to see her makeup charms held.  
Xenophilius made his way back to his side of the table, picking up the scroll, rolling it up tightly.  
"We can pick this up later Miss Granger, Hermione, I apologize. This interview can be in next month's issue. Perhaps we could finish it in a week or so?"  
Hermione smiled at him,  
"Yes, that will give me time to wash this, and give it back to you." She shook the handkerchief at him, but he shook his head.  
"Keep it. Luna got it for me from Paris. I'll ask her for another for Christmastide. She'll understand. It went to a good owner." His light green eyes shined with amusement and she shrugged,  
"If that's what you wish."  
He set his large hand on her shoulder, the warmth seeping through her robes, and into her skin, and she couldn't hide a blush.  
"Don't worry. You should do that more. You look like a blooming rose kissed your cheeks." He gestured to her blush and she looked away, embarrassed.  
"Well thank you. I'm sorry the interview didn't go as planned." She let out a quiet laugh.

He packed up the rest of his things, and she slipped her bag over her shoulder.  
He slipped past her to pull open the door, gesturing for her to go first; she took it and gave it a firm shake.  
"Give me a call, or an owl rather, and we'll arrange something." He looked directly at her, and the intensity of his stare made her knees a bit weak.  
"Of course. Have a good rest of the day Hermione." Her name sounded like an exotic creature the way he said it.  
She liked that.


	2. Chapter 2

As Xenophilius made a cup of Gurdyroot tea, he sat thoughtfully, listening as the liquid started to heat up. Hermione had grown up quickly. He had noticed the way she had taken charge when the trio had visited him those few months ago. He now regretted how cowardly he had acted, how quickly he had caved to the Dark Lords wishes. Luna had been so much more resilient than he had imagined.

She had assured him they had been more interested in torturing and interrogating the goblin and Wandmaker that had been captured with her.

He sipped the tea carefully, blowing on it before each sip. He glanced over at the rolled up scroll from the interview. He wasn't sure he could publish it. But the truth was, people liked raw, candid thoughts more than perfectly planned prim answers to scripted questions.

The sky outside rumbled with a coming storm, and he grinned, rainstorms were the perfect time to prune the Dirigible Plums.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione was awakened by a tapping at her window. The rumbling of thunder and the pouring rain had helped her drift off to sleep very quickly the night before. As she cracked open an eye, she suddenly gasped at the sight of a soaking wet, dark grey owl outside her bedroom window.

She quickly jumped out of bed, shoving the covers aside, barely noticing how cold the wooden floor was beneath her feet as she reached to undo the latch.

"You poor thing…" she mumbled as she waved her wand at the creature, carefully drying it. As it stood, shaking out its feathers, it hooted gratefully and stuck out its leg, displaying a note, somehow still dry.

She undid the scroll, and gave it a bit of leftover blueberry muffin, and it took off back out into the storm.

She shrugged, it was certainly tougher than it looked. She turned back to the table, and opened the note.

The scrawl was one unfamiliar to her, but the signature at the bottom read much easier, it was from Xenophilius Lovegood, most likely about arranging the second interview.

Hermione couldn't believe how she had fallen apart at the ministry. It was rather ridiculous. It had been ages since the war.

Mr. Lovegood invited her to join him for a light lunch the next day that the rain stopped, whether tomorrow, or the day after. He assured her though he admired people who braved the rain to go out; he preferred to be able to keep his parchment and ink dry without magic.

She smiled at that. That was very agreeable to her. She realized she would need to send her own owl as his had not stuck around long enough to take a reply. That was a puzzling thought.

She wrote out a reply, and after charming her owl to stay dry, sent it on its way. She stood back from the window, watching the rain absentmindedly for a moment, before remembering she had not yet had her coffee for the morning.

* * *

_A/N: Bad news folks, much as i love this idea, it had begun to morph into a rehash, by accident, of Life's Little Interruptions. so it has been put on hold indefinitely. Sorry!  
_


	3. Chapter 3

Xenophilius sat in the café, nervously pushing his flaxen blond hair out of his eyes. He glanced around the street every once and a while, once in a while looking over at the magic clock on the centerpiece of the table. Hermione wasn't quite late yet, but as usual, he could sense she would have good reason if she was.

He fiddled with his tea cup, wondering suddenly why he hadn't just brought a flask of gurdyroot tea. Certainly it would have tasted better than the weak Earl Green or whatever the waiter had brought him. He never could understand wizarding trends in food.

He heard a telltale _Crack!_ And looked around to see Hermione herself, straightening her outfit, and walking towards him.

"Hello there! I hope I'm not late." She said with a small smile, and he shook his head.

"Nonsense Miss Granger. I am always early." He stood awkwardly, reaching over to pull out the chair across from him, and she sat down quickly.

"I'm starving. I hope you didn't order anything yet, I have to tell you what's best." She smiled again, and he felt himself blush a bit.

She looked so lovely in a light blue sundress, with her wild brown curls still slightly damp from what he guessed had been her morning bath or shower, and her face aglow with happiness.

"Of course I didn't. I knew that you might have some inkling of what to dine on. Please, do." He gestured to the small folded piece of enchanted parchment, on which the menu was listed, accompanied by small moving illustrations of each dish.

She flipped through it expertly, stopping on what seemed like the middle page, and she turned it to show him.

"This. We should split it. It's a wonderful sandwich, with chicken, sun dried tomatoes, crispy lettuce, and a tangy mayonnaise."

He frowned slightly at the last ingredient and she flushed in embarrassment. Mayonnaise was still a rather muggle item and of course Mr. Lovegood wouldn't likely know of it.

"It's rather like salad dressing, but for sandwiches." She said lamely. He still looked rather puzzled, but somewhat assured.

"I'm sure it will taste perfectly divine." He said in a dreamy voice, staring into his teacup momentarily, before looking back up at her, his grey eyes finding focus in her brown ones.

"So, what—" but before he could continue, the waiter approached them, asking Hermione what she would like to drink, and if they were ready to order.

Hermione allowed only a momentary flash of annoyance to slip over her face before composing herself, ordering the sandwich she had pointed out, and a plain coffee for herself.

The waiter nodded and left post haste, clearly not having missed the look.

"I'm so sorry." She gushed, and Xenophilius waved a long fingered hand about, as if to ward off Knargles.

"Not to worry Miss Granger. I remember what I was going to ask precisely. At least, I thought I did." He paused and stared off into space again, and she could see the concentration on his face as he attempted to recall his train of thought.

Her drink arrived shortly afterward, and she busied herself with adding cream and sugar as Xenophilius gazed off into space.

She finished and tapped the spoon gently on the rim of the cup, and he glanced back at her,

"Ah. Miss Granger, I was wondering if you would want to continue the interview, or if you would like me to embellish it a bit, no one would blame you. Or me."

He smiled at her, and she couldn't help but feel relieved. She hadn't honestly been looking forward to talking more about the past and the events of the War, so she nodded.

"That would be wonderful. I am sure you could come up with some brilliant questions and answers. How much more material did you need?"

Xenophilius leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling, as if trying to find the answer in the wooden swirls.

"Perhaps a foot or so more of parchment. That should be enough for the front page and then some."

She nodded,

"That sounds good. Perhaps you would like to continue the interview after we eat? I don't wish to embarrass myself whilst talking with a mouthful of food."

Xenophilius blushed,

"Of course Miss Granger. I had no intention—"

Hermione raised a hand, and shook her head lightly so that her still damp curls swung about,

"Not that again. Please just call me Hermione. I insist."

Xenophilius nodded distractedly,

"Hermione. Forgive me." her name felt like honey on his tongue, as delicate and sweet as his own daughter's name. If only Luna had been there to help him. He never could act completely proper in public.

"Let's eat." Hermione gestured, and Xenophilius was stunned to see their plates were before them. He had been so lost in thought he had not noticed the waiter bringing their lunch out.

* * *

_A/N: GOOD NEWS! I am back! and this story is almost done, i got inspired by rewatching Deathly Hallows pt 1. who knows why? but i'm so glad. i'm sorry it's taken so long. this story had indeed been collecting dust, but now it is finally on its way to completion. _


	4. Chapter 4

After they had finished their lunch in a leisurely manner, Hermione suggested they simply walk to her apartment, as it was close by, to finish the interview.

Once settled in her living room, with more tea brewing, Xenophilius pulled out his scroll and quill, and turned to her, his list of questions ready.

Before he could open his mouth to speak, Hermione's big mouth interrupted him,

"I have a question of my own."

He gazed at her, his bright blue eyes widening and she could have bitten her tongue.

"I'm sorry. Forgive me. What were you going to say?"

He shook his head, his wild hair falling in his face, impatiently he brushed it aside,

"Please finish your thought, Hermione."

She looked down at her lavender carpeting, and bit her lip before speaking,

"I was wondering, that afternoon, once I finished reading the story, what was going through your mind? Did you still want to turn us in? Or were you merely trapped in the chain of events?"

Xenophilius sat back against the couch cushions, his mind suddenly coming to an abrupt halt. Any possible questions he was expecting disappeared in a virtual cloud of smoke. This line of questioning had blindsided him.

"Ah, well. You see, I was of two minds. I knew you were all Luna's closest and dearest friends, and I did not wish to hurt you, but at the same time, I knew that the only way I could know she was safe, was to turn you in. I had little choice in the matter. However, to this day, it is something I deeply regret. I do wish there had been a better choice."

Hermione was floored. His response was completely and exactly the right one. Spoken like a true father. When it came to choosing between those who you loved and those who your beloved did, it was always the one you loved. Hard as it had been, she could not be angry with him. Not that she had.

She stood up from the chair in which she had been perched across the small table from him, and went to sit beside him, placing her small hand atop one of his much larger ones,

"Thank you for being honest with me. I know it was hard."

Xenophilius nodded, unable to hear what she said, though he could see her lips moving. For some reason, all logical thought had left his mind, and the only thing he could focus on was the touch of her hand on his. It was warm, soft, and very fragile next to his. He heard her say something else, but could only stare at her, beginning to lose himself in her warm brown eyes. It was as if a Knargle had flown into his ears, muffling all sounds but the beating of his and her heart.

Hermione meanwhile was merely trying to speak with him, but having no luck. When she raised a hand to wave it before his eyes, they suddenly focused again, and his free hand shot up to grip hers.

She glanced at it, and before his grip turned painful, she looked up to meet his gaze,

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. For once. I know what I must do." His voice was deeper, had lost the dreamy quality that Luna's shared, and had grown husky.

She had only a few seconds to think about what he could possibly mean before he used her hands to propel her into him, and he captured her mouth with his.

His arms snaked around her waist, and she was flush against his chest, feeling the erratic heartbeat through his thin cotton shirt, and she could swear her own skipped a few beats.

All she could think was,

'What is happening?'

* * *

His hands slowly moved up from her waist to caress her cheeks, his thumbs stroking the tops of her closed eyelids. They were as gentle as butterfly's wings, and Hermione felt as if she was awakening from a dream as she pulled away, and her eyes gradually opened.

Xenophilius' eyes scanned her face, searching for any sign or indication she disliked what had occurred. Nothing of the sort was visible.

Hermione cleared her throat suddenly, and sat up straight,

"I think the tea is ready." She managed to say, before quickly exiting the room.

Xenophilius blinked twice. Her reaction was that of a skittish wild animal. However he sensed that she had wanted to stay, and perhaps say something completely different.

* * *

Hermione stood, frozen, hands hovering over the teapot, slightly shaking. She had been kissed many a time. Whether at Hogwarts, during forth year by Victor, or during the last months before the battle of Hogwarts, by Ron. Never had they been out of the blue, or so unearthly. She had been blindsided. That moment, the moment in time spilt seconds before he kissed her, she could have sworn she felt a slight fuzziness in her brain. As if some of the creatures he and Luna were always talking about had overtaken her senses.

* * *

_A/N: I know Luna seems absent from the story, but that's just how it happened. I kinda would think she would probably be okay with all of this. in her own way, i think she would even encourage it.  
_


	5. Chapter 5

She blinked, and shook her head, she was being ridiculous. She began to reach for the teapot, and carefully poured two cups full of steaming black tea, before noticing a change in the room. As if she could feel another's presence. She set the pot down gently, and slowly turned around. She jumped, finding Xenophilius inches from her, his face stricken with sorrow.

"Please forgive me." he whispered, before taking her face in his hands and pulling her close, and kissing her softly.

She stepped backwards, and he followed her movement, in effect pinning her between the counter and his strong body. She felt no sense of danger, only urgency. Something stirred inside her, deep in the pit of her stomach. It was as if a dragon had lain slumbering, up until this moment, but now it was awake. It breathed a fire throughout her that could only be tamed by more kisses, more feather light touches. It felt as if her very skin was on fire. It was not painful, but it caused her to moan aloud into his mouth. Her lips parted and he slowly and deftly traced his tongue around them, and when she moved her own to meet his, they both shook with something, not quite laughter, but perhaps mutual understanding.

Kissing with open mouths had been strange when Victor had introduced her to it, but now, kissing Xenophilius, it felt as if she was drinking the elixir of life from his breath on hers, and she began to reach out for him, gripping handfuls of his shirt, and pulling him closer. She suddenly couldn't get enough of him.

Thoughts of tea long forgotten, she began tugging on his shirt, directing them towards her bedroom, which was only a few steps past the living room.

He decided the idea of slowly walking there didn't appeal to him, and he parted their mouths, if only to look deeply into her eyes,

"Are you sure?"

Hermione nodded, and he swept her off her feet, into his arms, and he strode quickly in the direction she vaguely gestured to. She was half drowned in sensation, and nearly lost to the real world, as he muttered some spells under his breath to draw the drapes, and lower the lights, she came to again as he gently set her down atop her bedspread.

Xenophilius wasn't exactly sure when this had gone from an interview to an afternoon with the potential for carnal delights, but he wasn't arguing either.

He kicked off his shoes, and watched as she did the same, hardly caring where they went.

She looked up at him, her brown eyes wide with curiosity and lips parted and breath coming quickly, and he could not resist.

It felt rather like he was being seduced, more than the other way around.

Hermione couldn't be sure, but she didn't mind at all. She pulled off her blue sundress, and tried not to care as it crumpled to the floor in a heap, joined by Xenophilius' cotton shirt.

Suddenly she was left in her very plain white underwear, and he in his baggy trousers. She could not be certain, but she was beginning to suspect he wasn't wearing anything underneath his pants.

She smiled shyly at the thought that his current state of agitation and arousal was all because of her.

He tried to ignore his own needs, and began to slowly undo her bra, but she stopped him,

"I'll do it."

He nodded quickly, of course. He was half afraid he would tear her remaining clothing in his haste.

She closed her eyes, and concentrated. He looked down with a gasp, she had used wand-less magic to finish undressing them both. He had no chance to hide himself, and she shook her head, using her hand to gently grip his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze,

"It's okay. I want you."

He gulped, and licked his lips, nodding in understanding.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of flashes of bare skin on skin, sounds of ecstasy rising from each other's throats. Hands traveled everywhere, with touches that merely stroked the fire inside them both before coming together to soar to intoxicating heights that ended in a crescendo of pleasure that had them both seeing stars.

* * *

Like a moth to the flame, that was the only way Xenophilius could classify their relationship. She was a brilliant glowing flame, and he was the helpless moth who had no other option then to fall for her.

Hermione was of the opinion that it was simply logical. Two minds that had unique ways of seeing the world were destined to enjoy it together.

Either way, they had their own glimpse at a happy ending.

The most brilliant witch of her time, and the strangest warlock of his, forged their own future with high hopes.

* * *

**END**

* * *

_A/N: YAY LAST CHAPTER. Aaand it's complete. I also know i copped out by skipping over the smut. sorry. just wasn't in the right mood. i also wanted it to be mysterious, and dreamlike. Just like the Lovegoods._

_ thanks for reading!  
_


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